The Exquisite and Immaculate Grace of Carmen Espinoza by Rebecca Taylor Page B

thing does not mean it does not exist.”
    I stared into the forest, followed the path for as far as my eyes and the darkness of the woods would allow. “I don’t think I can do this.”
    He shook his head, “That’s unfortunate because you have to do far more than just think you can—you’re going to have to believe it.”
    I looked into his eyes. My throat felt tight and my chest heavy with dread—the panic of being trapped in a situation I was not allowed to escape. “I’m scared,” I breathed.  
    His face shifted, for half a second it was like a subtle breeze of sympathy softened his expression. Then he hardened his mouth and gazed up into the thick mounds of the strange brown foliage of the trees. “The next one will be easier. You’ll have a better sense of what to expect and won’t leave yourself so open to their influence.”  
    A deep and shaky breath filled me. I nodded my head and tried to control the stampede of terror running through my veins.
    On the path, Ray began walking, eyes ahead, focused. When he stopped in front of me, he didn’t look at me but his hand reached for mine, his fingers slid around my palm until our hands were clasped. When he kept walking, I followed.  
    One step after another took me closer to some unknown horror. I tried to keep my mind focused on the heat between our hands, and the occasional strange confusion I experienced when his thumb absently stroked the back of my hand.  
    Like before, I stood with Ray beneath the stone archway and watched the souls inside the offense, only this time I thought I had a pretty good idea of what was going on.  
    “They’re gorging themselves,” I said.
    Ray only shrugged, but a sideways smirk pulled at his lips—a silent reassurance that I was on the right track. His hand still held mine but without the distraction of our walking, the gesture felt awkwardly intimate. Almost as soon as the thought occurred to me, and without looking at me, Ray pulled his hand from mine. I felt certain he had again been able to read my emotions.
    “Are you ready?” he asked.
    “No. Not really.”
    “Perfect,” he said and looked up into the sky. I knew he was watching that strange moon tick away my time here. “We do need to pick up the pace,” he reminded me.  
    I took a deep breath, let it out and stepped over the threshold.  
    Like before, the archway and Ray disappeared behind me and it seemed as if I simply materialized into the center of the chaos all around me. The first thing that hit me was the smell. A swirling mix of cooked meats, heavy spices, chocolaty cookies, and sugary cakes juxtaposed the rancid odor of vomit and bile. All around me were enormous feasting tables filled to overflowing with every imaginable culinary treat and temptation. A never ending array of perfectly roasted turkeys, mountains of gourmet burgers, oceans of creamy mashed potatoes, all surrounded by beautiful desserts, crispy appetizers, and fountains overflowing with every drink imaginable—from bubbling champagne to caramelized sodas.    
    An unimaginable feast.
    And all the guests, grazing from table to table, were bloated rolls of fat covered in the foods that fell from their mouths and hands and stuck to their bodies. Great gaping mouths filled with rotten teeth that noshed and spat, swallowed and choked on fistfuls of food that ran like rivulets from the corners of sauce covered lips.
    All over the floor were puddles of puke and excrement mixed with discarded bones and wrappers, filth and waste crawling with rodents and scattering bugs that the feasters somehow managed to ignore.  
    Or maybe they couldn’t see them at all.  
    I covered my mouth and nose, trying the best I could to block out the confusing stench created by delicious food and its wasted byproduct while I tried to figure out how to escape this offense. In the first, the souls had approached me almost immediately, pulling me into their gossip and lies—they had needed me to both